unhealthy | pjm

p r o l o g u e

Isn't it funny?

How hormones slap you in the face at the most inappropriate times?

As I regained my breath, leaning on the door of the janitor's closet for support, a fiery blush rose to my cheeks. I couldn't even look towards the seemingly inconspicuous object without a rush of memories ploughing through my head, making me go weak at the knees.

What in the actual hell just happened?

two hours earlier

I slammed the apartment door with all my might, which wasn't much, considering my fingers were trembling violently. Nevertheless, the echo of my anger resonated throughout the entire floor; a painful reminder of what had just occurred.

I had just finished my shift at university when I received a text from an unknown number. I put down the mountain of books I was carrying into my locker, and unlocked my phone to see who it was. When my eyes landed on the picture, my hands started shaking and the phone dropped to the ground. Tears blurred my vision and left glistening streaks down my round cheeks as I grasped my mind for a possible explanation.

After a few seconds, my bitter laugh could be heard down the lengths of the abandoned hallway. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. I needed to end this right now.

"Damn you, Park Jimin."

In the span of a few minutes, I had calmed down, well, enough to drive anyways. Sliding into the front seat of my blue Volvo, I slipped a cigarette between my lips, breathing in the familiar scent. It slowed my racing heart, and by the time I pulled into the parking lot of our shared apartment, there was no outwards evidence of my emotional breakdown.

I was eerily calm as I walked towards the apartment, slowly building a strong demeanour to show Jimin. I wouldn't be walked over, not anymore. I paused in front of the mahogany door, slowly breathing in and out to control my anger. At last, my hand grasped the rusty bronze handle, and the door swung open to reveal my boyfriend.

My breath hitched in my throat. My brain almost automatically reprimanded my actions, scolding me for my weakness when it came to this boy. But not even the most strong restraints could stop me from staring at him with an obvious emotion swirling in my green eyes.

His red hair was hanging in his eyes; a rare occasion, for his hair was always styled held back into a quiff with a thin layer of gel holding it in place. His round glasses had ridden down his button nose. Complete with his sleep shorts and white t- shirt, he looked adorably innocent. But I knew better than to fall for that act again.

"Hey babe."

His husky voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I snapped my neck up to look him in the eye.

Not a good move.

I hurriedly cast my eyes downwards. His dark eyes always seemed to have a hypnotising effect on me, leaving me unable to hide my true emotions. And that was not what I had in mind today.

I raised my phone to his face with stoic, almost robotic movements, making sure he could see the picture bright and clear. Making sure to maintain my emotionless mask, I drawled out the all too familiar words.

"Who is she?"

At once his face paled, and his eyes widened. He made a swift grab for the phone. Anticipating this, I used my oddly quick reflexes, and dodged his desperate hands.